


Sugarwolf

by Bro_inski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Food Kink, Humor, M/M, Stress Eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 05:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5955070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bro_inski/pseuds/Bro_inski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Derek stress eats and Stiles is totally okay with that. </p><p>(Just a tiny fluffy ficlet I cranked out when I was bored)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a tiny ficlet I wrote while I was bored and procrastinating from writing a speech for class. I literally wrote this in ten minutes, don't judge me.

The first time it happens Stiles is late to a doctor’s appointment. It’s actually his dad’s, but if Stiles doesn’t get there before him his dad will convince the doctor he’s healthier then he is. As it is, he only has twenty minutes left to get there and spill the beans on the sheriff's donut addiction courtesy of the new cafe open a block from the station. He has a stack of research to drop off at the loft first though.

He’s in such a hurry to drop off the papers and get back out to the jeep that he doesn’t even notice for a moment. But then…he catches Derek’s eye.

  
Derek, who is hunched over a box of donuts baring the logo for the very same cafe that his father has been eating at. He’s trying to stuff one donut into his mouth while shoving the box under the coffee table. There’s powdered sugar across his face, caked on his lips and the tip of his nose mostly and his eyes are wide and guilty. He’s wearing a classic deer-in-the-headlights expression that clashes with his normally surly exterior.

While Stiles stands at the door with his mouth hanging open Derek rubs powered sugar and what looks like globs of candy jelly off on his jeans. The research is still dangling in one hand by the tips of his fingers as he watches Derek try to salvage the situation but it’s too late because Stiles has definitely just walked in on Derek Hale, six pack toting sourwolf, binging a box of donuts Stiles knows for a fact are loaded with sugar and artificial crap. (Hey, he does his research, gotta keep his old man’s heart beating strong.)

“Are you-” He starts, but doesn’t get to finish before Derek is striding towards him with angry brows drawn over his powdery face. (Oh god, Stiles is going to die, but all he can think about is that there is powered sugar caught in the dark hair of Derek’s beard.) He squeaks and all but tosses the papers at Derek in a rush to escape the room. He slams the door behind him, catching a glimpse of Derek’s bewildered face the second before the door closes.

The imagine of Derek clenching the papers he’d slaved over all night in one jelly sticky hand haunts him all the way to the doctor’s office.

  
He doesn’t get there before his dad.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The second time is a rainy Tuesday that finds Stiles clomping up the stairs and into his room soaking wet because his jeep (Dumb piece of- no, he doesn’t mean that.) has broken down again on the way home from school. His shoes squelch on his feet and leave muddy tracks all the way to his room and his pants hang sadly off his hips, threatening to fall down if even one more drop of water weighs them down.

He notices Derek right away this time, but how can he not when the man is hunched over on his bed helping himself to an entire glass dish of leftover lasagna Stiles remembers putting in the fridge two nights ago.

There’s papers spread all over his bed, some of them sporting pasta sauce marks. The nightstand next to the bed is holding a mostly empty two-liter of Mountain Dew and a sad, wet box of bread sticks that is thrown open and empty except for a smear of cheese sauce across the side of the cardboard.

He stands there gaping for at least five minutes before Derek actually gives in and lifts his head to stare at Stiles disapprovingly. Which, no. Stiles has every right to stand there and stare at him because Derek-freaking-Hale was camped out on his bed looking like he’d been there most of the day while finishing off a pan of lasagna Stiles was almost certain had been a least half full before he’d left this morning.

“Dude, what are you doing?” One eyebrow raised and Derek’s mouth twisted into a small frown. He lifted the last forkful of pasta to his mouth and devoured it like he hadn’t just ate half a pan and god knows what else.

  
“Reading your research.”

  
“Yeah, thanks Captain Obvious, I can see that. But this is my room, where I do the research. Not where you also read it. Don’t you have a loft?” Stiles was getting the growly face full force. Derek’s eyebrows were bunched up over his eyes and his forehead was heavily creased. His mouth had thinned out and Stiles could see the very tip of one fang peeking over his lip.

Antagonize the werewolf with anger issues? Check.

Derek continued to glare at him while Stiles stands in his drenched clothing and considers his options. There weren’t many, but getting a hot shower seemed pretty reasonable.

“I’m gonna catch a shower, do whatever werewolves do when their stress eating and please, please be gone when I get out.”

“I’m not-”

“You are dude, you really are. I don’t care how muscly you are, you do not have to eat that much.” He spins on one hells and squeaks and squelches all the way to the bathroom where a steaming hot shower awaits him.

Derek doesn’t leave while he’s in the shower. When he emerges in a puff of steam Derek has taken up residence at his computer desk and is polishing off Stiles’s secret stash of cookie dough.

Stiles yells at him.

Derek doesn’t look impressed.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The third time, after all the shit went down with the nogitsune and the benefactor, Allison and Aidan and every other sucky thing that went wrong in their lives lately, Derek gets to release his pent up stress licking cherry sauce off Stiles’s dick.

Cherry sauce.

Cause Derek is a freak.

It’s fine though, because after they’ve had several rounds of sweaty, awesome sex Stiles gets to cover Derek in chocolate sauce and lick it out of his mouth and off his rock hard abs before treating himself to Derek’s dick like it’s a ice-cream pop.

And that is pretty great.


	2. Sweetwolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Stiles waits for the other shoe to drop, Derek feels insecure and somehow maple syrup gets involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You people are amazing, I actually met some people today at my college who read my work! How amazing is that? They actually knew my work by name and recognized my pen name. I’m so fucking honored I could cry.  
> Also there is a lot of porn. I'm so sorry.

You people are amazing, I actually met some people today at my college who read my work! How amazing is that? They actually knew my work by name and recognized my pen name. I’m so fucking honored I could cry.

College was suppose to be his element.

  
His father always told him that high school wouldn’t matter in the long run, that the start of college would be a whole new chapter in his life. The only difference was the late nights spent up stressing over essays due the next day rather then rushing through his worksheets at red lights on the way the school.

  
His constant complaints fell on deaf ears (To all but Scott, who found himself in a similar boat). Even Derek had taken to avoiding Stiles after late night classes.  
Last week he’d caught his father ducking behind a tomato soup display, completely abandoning his cart full of frozen pizzas and a twelve pack of beer in his cowardice. He narrowed his eyes at his father and pointed two fingers between his father and himself as he walked away.

  
He’d walked home after his jeep died for the last time (R.I.P. Roscoe) two weeks ago and found Kira and Derek hiding out in the garage of their new house.  
While the rest of the house had been decorated in Star Wars posters, Doctor Who collectables and Harry Potter memorabilia the garage had remained Derek’s. It was decorated in dark colors, furnished with black leather couches and glass coffee and end tables and only contained several bookshelves full of what Stiles deemed ‘boring’ books and a flatscreen that almost always played basketball game reruns on mute.

  
On this occasion the TV was off completely for once and the two were hunched over the coffee table in a classical plotting pose. Their evil scheme had been distracting enough to keep either of them from noticing Stiles stomping through the house.

  
He tossed his bag between the two of them, cringing only slightly when he heard his laptop hit the table. He’d managed a dramatic entrance- a nearly impossibility living with werewolves- and he wasn’t going to give up the theatrics over his cheap laptop.

  
“So, what are you guys up to?” He had asked, aiming for casual and falling on paranoid. He planted himself against Derek’s side and curled his legs up under him. He gave Kira his best interrogation expression and commandeered Derek’s left arm in a tight grip.

  
The message was clear, no one leaves until he found out what was going on.

  
Kira shoot Derek a pleading look, silently begging him to save her. No such luck, his boyfriend was merciless. The two of them had refused to fess up despite Stiles’s best interrogation methods (Chattering pointlessly until even he was annoyed).

  
Derek’s face had tightened and his eyebrows had drawn in to fluffy caterpillars over his narrowed eyes and Kira had decided to stare hopefully at the ceiling, apparently praying for divine intervention.

  
Nothing worked and Stiles had huffed and puffed magnificently when he was forced to stomp out the way he had come in.  
Which leads him to what he is currently doing.

  
That being pouring Derek’s precious maple syrup over the sleeping man, giggling madly as he did so. His face was probably manic, slightly chipmunky and his eyes were swollen and red after a night of cramming in last minute projects. He was probably a terrifying sight for poor Derek, who woke up and slapped one sticky hand to his face, where Stiles had liberally coated his designer stubble in syrup. (He’d licked off a section of it and had to reapply it.)

  
Stiles loomed over him, straddling his thighs tightly and holding the nearly empty bottle in both hands over his chest. He was trying fruitlessly to cover the last section of pecs with what little was left in the bottle. Derek’s expression was adorably bewildered and his eyes flashed yellow for a moment until he recognized the figure looming over him as his boyfriend.

  
Who had possibly lost his mind.

  
“What the-“

  
“Just a little more, let me just-“ Derek roared and snatched the offending bottle out of Stiles’s hands and hurled it at the wall as hard as he could. Glass shattered and the wall was stained in golden syrup. Stiles’s face dropped dramatically, screwing up in preparation for what was sure to be an epic meltdown.  
Derek grabbed the opportunity to slap a hand over Stiles’s face before the yelling could start. Stiles licked his hand and glared daggers over Derek’s hand when it didn’t move. He slobbered sloppily over his palm for a minute, till Derek was seriously considering lifting his hand, before he gave up and gave him droopy puppy dog eyes even Scott would be proud of.

  
“If I lift my hand will you yell?” Derek groaned when Stiles’s head bobbed and his eyes lit up in mischief. He’d brought his hands up and was pulling uselessly at Derek’s fingers.

  
“You’ve lost your damn mind. Not just you, Scott too. Kira was here the other day worried sick and you scared her half to death.” Derek growled in warning when Stiles’s hands crept up his syrup coated thigh and his fingers started scratching at the drying syrup stuck in his leg hair.

  
“I don’t know what’s up with you lately but it needs to stop. Ever since we moved in together you’ve been half-crazy.” Derek didn’t want to say what he really feared, that maybe it was him driving Stiles crazy. Kate had been crazy, Jennifer too. Paige had been sane, but died violently like the other two because of him.  
He didn’t have the best history with relationships, he’d known there would be issues between the two of them when Stile’s had initiated their relationship about a month after the Nogitsune possession by showing up at his loft with a shopping bag dangling in his hands.

  
He’d appreciated the chocolate and strawberry syrup then, but he didn’t appreciated the maple syrup now.

  
“If it’s me, if you don’t want to be with me anymore-“ Derek didn’t finish, he shut his mouth and swallowed down the pain he felt even voicing his fears. A moment of silence passed in which neither man moved a single muscle.

  
Derek felt terror, terror that Stiles might take this as an opportunity to confess that he wanted to leave him. Stiles’s eyes were wide open and shocked, his body one long tense line in Derek’s sticky lap.

  
In a flurry of motion Stiles yanked back, scrambling to the foot of the bed and drawing himself up to full size, an impressive six foot that had passed Derek by a few inches by the time he’d turned twenty and finally stopped growing like a weed. He’d always kept his lean shape though, always bordering right on the edge of too skinny.

  
He leaned forward, snatching up Derek’s wrist in one hand to pull him forward and cupping the other on the back of his neck. Comforting in the way that just Stiles knew how much Derek loved that.

  
“Listen to me, you colossal dumbass.” He snapped, eyes harder than Derek had even seen them but softer at the same time. “At no point have I even not wanted you with every fiber of my being, you got that? I always want to be with you. Forever. Get it through your thick skull Sourwolf.”

  
Stiles took a deep breath, eyes softening just enough that Derek relaxed into his hands.

  
“It’s just stress I guess. It’s been a year since the last attack on Beacon Hills, I’m just sitting here dealing with the same problems as every other twenty-something year old does. Going to college, living with the boyfriend, living the normal life. It feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and it’s driving me fuckin’ nuts.”  
Derek hummed thoughtfully while he mulled that over, eyes on the plastic bag on the floor. The neck of another bottle of maple syrup was peeking out of a tear in the plastic.

  
“What does that have to do with pouring syrup on me? And what does it have to do with scaring Kira and your father?” Stiles smiled extra wide, learning forward to lick a stray drop of golden syrup from his neck. He pulled back again and pushed his bottom lip out in the least innocent pout ever.

  
“The syrup was suppose to be sexy, I got carried away. Kira is because she’s stealing Sterek time when she should be having Scira time. My best dude has been waiting to pop the question, can’t do that if she’s never home. Don’t even get me started on my dad.”

  
“He can’t live on salad.” Derek couldn’t live on salad. First the sheriff was forced to eat all vegetables, next is Derek. He just knows it, Stiles doesn’t care that Derek is a werewolf. He will make him eat soy steaks and almond milk and weird mashed cauliflower disguised as mashed potatoes. (The sheriff may fall for the cauliflower trick but Derek has werewolf senses on his side.)

  
“He can live on salad! I went to his house while he was at the station and found a box of Twinkies in the pantry. Derek, Twinkies!” Stiles said this with the outrage of someone who had caught someone drowning puppies. It was obviously the worst thing he had imagined happening.

  
“I shouldn’t have moved out. We can still move back, my old room is pretty big.”

  
“Not living in the room you grew up in, also not living with my boyfriend’s father. Everything is fine.” Stiles shook his head despairingly, apparently mourning the loss of common sense from the men in his life.

  
Stiles’s eyes drifted, trailing heavy over Derek’s chest which glistened with syrup. He leaned forward, drawn forth like a moth to a flame. Derek sighed, use to the ADHD urges that possessed Stiles randomly. He leaned back and pulled his sticky boxers off his hips gently, wincing at the feeling of sticky skin separating from cloth. He dragged them down his legs, encouraged by the soft sound of Stiles’s breath catching in his chest.

  
“Seriously? This does it for you?” Stiles grinned shamelessly, turning molten amber eyes back on Derek’s face. He nodded rapidly and leaned forward to help pull the offending clothing the rest of the way down his legs.

  
His helping mostly consisted of dragging feather light fingertips down his calves and pressing licking, biting kisses against his legs. Derek would roll his eyes if he wasn’t so focused on not letting the moan gathered in his throat loose.

  
Stiles’s grinned and fluttered his eyelashes innocently at the sight of Derek’s exasperated expression above him. He nipped gently at his Achilles tendon, leaning back when Derek’s foot jerked.

  
He lost his patience and yanked his boxers free from Stiles’s (extremely unhelpful) hands and pulled them off. They got tossed across the room in the general vicinity of the laundry hamper.

  
Stiles placed both of his long fingered hands on Derek’s thighs and tightened them to pull himself up further, close enough to place his searing hot mouth against his thighs. Derek growled in warning when Stiles dragged the tip of his tongue up his thigh to the tender place where his thigh met his groin and back down to catch a stray drop of syrup from above his knee. Stiles muffled his laughter against inner thigh while his hand came up to brush against the side of his cock.

  
Derek’s hand snapped down faster than Stiles’s eyes could follow and trapped Stiles’s hand against him before the man could continue with his teasing. Stiles’s grin stretched even further and his eyes started to crinkle up in the corners.

  
“Well then. Impatient much?”

  
“Fucking fuck me before I strangle you.” Derek growled. He pointedly ignored his boyfriend’s muttered comment about being a counterintuitive sourwolf in exchange for focusing on the sensation of his hand finally wrapping tight around his straining cock and dragging up from root to tip.

  
“Want me to suck you, baby?” Stiles’s murmured, his tongue flicking out against his slit where pre-cum was already gathered generously. Derek grunted and snapped his hips, choking on a snarl when Stiles pulled away just in time to catch his dick across his lips. His lips glistened with a smear of pre-cum when he grinned up at Derek.

  
“Just-“ Derek made a grab for Stiles hair which Stiles allowed and used his handhold to guide his mouth back down to his cock. Stiles had apparently had enough with his own fuckery and eagerly wrapped his lips tightly around his head of his cock and slid down with a loud slurp. He reached about halfway down before encountering his gag reflex and bobbing back up to a comfortable length.

  
He fluttered his eyes at Derek’s face and corkscrewed his fist at the same time. He moaned around his mouthful at the raw, open expression that cross the werewolf’s face at his ministrations.

  
On his next drop he forced another inch down his throat at the same time he reached into his sweatpants to grasp his dick. He gave a couple of teasing bobs, testing Derek’s endurance while working his cock steadily in his hand.

  
Derek’s hands were twitching in his hair after a few minutes and another two inches crammed down his throat. His chin was spit slick and his lips were red and swollen around his cock.

  
He slurped noisily up and down his length, pulling off a few times to drag his tongue across his slit and gather up drops of salty pre-cum.

  
“Fuck my mouth, please. Do it Derek.” He whispered hoarsely. His lips brushed his cock as he spoke and his eyes stared up desperately.

  
Derek’s hips jerked up into the searing hot furnace of his throat, groaning when he forced past Stiles’s gag reflex and the feel of the man choking tightened his throat around him.

  
He pulled off suddenly to drag his tongue up Derek’s lightly furred belly and through a puddle of maple syrup that had collected in the dip of his belly button.

  
“Fuck me. Pleasepleaseplease-“ Stiles grinned, his lips stretching over his belly at the sound of his boyfriend’s pleas. He reached back with one spit slicked hand to probe teasingly between his cheeks.

  
He ran the pads of his fingers over the tight pucker while Derek jerked under him and sobbed in desperation. He pressed lightly, savoring the feel of the tightly furled muscles giving slightly under his fingers.

  
He dragged his tongue up through the trail of syrup, distracting Derek from him wetting his fingers in the puddle of pre-cum forming under Derek’s blood heavy cock.

  
He brought his fingers back and pressed two of them against the pucker of his hole just the way Derek liked it, fast and rough. His boyfriend gasped and pushed back against the fingers pressed into his body.

  
Stiles was back to lavishing his hipbones with his flat tongue, lapping up every sweet drop he could find while his fingers sunk deep into the werewolf’s heated hole.  
Said werewolf was bucking harder, trying to force his fingers deeper inside him.

  
He felt too empty like this. His hole was fluttering against Stiles’s long fingers where they breached the ring of muscles. He crave the feel of those muscles being stretched wide open around Stiles’s cock, spearing him open and raw with every thrust into him.

  
He yelled out, his voice bordering on a roar when on the next thrust of fingers another spit slicked finger wormed its way in beside the other two.  
The three fingers were spread inside of him, forcing him open around them. He gulped frantically for air and grasped tightly at Stiles’s shoulders.  
For once Stiles wasn’t grinning or joking around. When Derek looked down at him he found his amber eyes glowing under hooded lids and his mouth dropped slightly open in awe.

  
The addition of his pinky burned fiercely for a few seconds despite his accelerated healing and he sucked in a harsh breath that was punched out of his chest when all four fingers were pulled free from him, leaving his hole gaping wide and empty.

  
“Fuck- turn over, baby, I got you.” Stiles murmured shoving at Derek’s side until the older man flopped over and pressed his syrup sticky chest to the bed sheets and lifted his ass high in the air, displaying himself for his boyfriend.

  
Stiles sucked in a surprised breath at the sight before him before he dropped himself over Derek’s back and pressed himself against his ass until he felt the slight give of his hole under his cock head.

  
He moaned in time with Derek when he felt the head slip into the heat. The rest of his shaft followed with a slow roll of his hips. Every inch pushed through clenching muscles inside him, seeming to carve out a place inside with every second.

  
Derek clawed at the bedsheets, not even aware that his claws had slipped out of tangled themselves in the once pristine but now ruined sheets.  
His teeth had lengthened into fangs that he panted through. His gasp and whimpers were punched out of him with every hard thrust.

  
This. This was what made him feel loved. Needed. More so than any words Stiles could say. His desperation for Derek spoke volumes about his need for him.  
The slap of skin on skin echoed through the bedroom, gaining volume and losing tempo as Stiles drove himself closer to the edge.

  
Derek buried his face in the remnants of the sheet and sunk his fangs into them, holding back the howl that threatened to escape as he felt the white-hot edge of orgasm rip through his belly.

  
He felt the sudden rush of wetness inside of him and the final few desperate jerks of Stiles’s hips as he rode out his orgasm.

  
Stiles’s stilled inside him and plastered himself to Derek’s back to mouth lazily at his back and shoulders while his hand wiggled between Derek and the tacky sheets to pull hard and fast as his cock.

  
The orgasm stole the breath from him in the form of a choked howl. His hips churned, grinding his dick between Stiles’s hand and the bed as he came.  
The world whited out for a long moment as he lay heaving, trying to settle down from the breath taking orgasm he’d just had.

  
He whimpered unhappily when Stiles slid his softening cock out of him and clenched down trying to sooth the empty, gaping feeling he left behind.

  
Stiles flopped down beside him, immediately curling into his side. Derek listened to him snuff at his ribs, only laughing a little when he felt his tongue dart out to lick his sticky side.

  
Come was leaking out of his hole as he lay still and tolerated Stiles’s lazy licks. It dripped down between his legs and over his balls and pooled on the sheets.

  
“This is disgusting.” He mumbled into the sheets, shifting his hips uncomfortably as he tried to separate them from the come and syrup stained fabric.

  
“Fun though.” Stiles mused, amber eyes sparkling merrily when they caught on Derek’s. His face was lax and relaxed and his lips glistened with syrup like lipgloss.

  
“Your definition of fun leaves something to be desire.” Derek told him. Stiles shifted around behind him and the slide of one long finger pushing into him suddenly had him jumping forward.

  
“You cheeky little-“ He cut off with a moan. He squirmed under Stiles, who was pressing instantly on the bundle of nerves inside of him. When he spoke again his voice was full of amusement and half concealed desire.

  
“I could go again. You?”

"Fuck yeah." 

 

I’d like to say I love you guys. I must, because I wrote the vast majority of this story in my college library in full view of my classmates. Good use of my study time if I do say so myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to say I love you guys. I must, because I wrote the vast majority of this story in my college library in full view of my classmates. Good use of my study time if I do say so myself.


End file.
